The Bloody Lunar as Crimson as the Fiery Phallic Solar

The Blood that carries all the codes, the strands of life and death.

Swirling like the coiled Serpents of Kundalini aroused, arising,

Double helixes if DNA.

Memories of a species, of a race, of a leftover stardust.

A history of turmoil.

A history of difficulty.

The growing pains we humans call Evolution. Or Enlightenment.

Like the rest I carry the code.

I let it seep down my legs back to the Abyss or the Waters of Binah.

It’s all good.

Others are better suited to that task than me.

I grasp the Lightning that precedes the Thunder.

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